


Another Start

by novembermond



Category: War Horse - Fandom
Genre: Character Death Fix, Fluff, M/M, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novembermond/pseuds/novembermond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m sorry for interrupting your inner monologue, but I’ve been watching you stand in front of my house for ten minutes now. Wouldn’t you like to come inside?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Start

**Author's Note:**

> For Ducky, who wanted fluffy survivor!fic.

 

The country house was on the small side, but well kept. He had passed several fine mounts grazing on his way here. It was all he had been able to find out about his former friend. The Captain had retired to the countryside and was breeding horses. The knowledge that whatever else had happened, at least Jim was still passionate about horses was comforting, familiar.

He took a deep breath when he reached the door. He shouldn’t be nervous, not after having survived the most horrible war in history. When he reached out to knock on the door, it opened itself as if by magic.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your inner monologue, but I’ve been watching you stand in front of my house for ten minutes now. Wouldn’t you like to come inside?”

Nicholls was standing just inside the house, tall and proud like he had always been. Strong and beautiful. Alive.

At his continued silence Jim coughed. “Or I could close the door again and we pretend this never happened?” He shifted from one foot to the other, yet always keeping his left side hidden behind the door.

“No! I… it’s good to see you.” I thought you were dead. I missed you so much. I was dreaming and hoping that I died and you would be there.

Nicholls led him inside, into a small cozy room. He gestured with his right arm for him to sit down. Tea had already been served. They sat in awkward silence for a while until a quiet voice said: “I thought you dead.” He had been thinking of saying it so much that it took him a second to realize that it had been Jim who’d said it. He looked up from the tea cup to see Jim’s face full of agony. “When I woke up from my opium haze, I thought they’d killed you and I mourned you.” He swallowed. “Only years later I heard that you lived and mourned again, because I left you behind in that hell hole.”

He snorted. “Jim you were gravely wounded. That’s not what I call leaving me behind.” They both pointedly didn’t look at the empty space where Jim’s left arm would have been.

“How did you…”

But he had had enough words for now. He got up from his seat, crossed over to Jim and embraced him. He was ready to step away immediately in case his touch was unwelcome, but Jim practically melted into him and his arm came up to pat him in the back. The thought that maybe he wasn’t the only one that was starved for a gentle touch crossed his mind.

“You lost weight. I’ll need to feed you a lot.” Jim said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Does that mean I can stay?”

“Of course you are going to stay. If you think I’ll ever let you out of my sight again, you are gravely mistaken.”

Finally he pulled back to look at Jim’s grinning face.

“It’s so good to have you back, Jamie.”

“It’s so good to be with you again.” And then Jim pulled him in for a kiss with the promise of more. And James Stewart lived the first day of the rest of his life.


End file.
